


Pasta

by slytherinquoll



Category: Primeval
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinquoll/pseuds/slytherinquoll
Summary: how many years do they have to cohabitate before they are common law married
Kudos: 2





	Pasta

Connor sighed. It had been a long day and he was actually quite glad Abby’s car was in the shop because it meant he didn't have to drive. Looking back, it had never really been an option. She was always the first one to grab her keys whenever Cutter called and since they were both going to the same site, he usually just got into the passenger seat. 

It took a while for him to catch on that the other members of the team would have maybe liked an extra vehicle on scene but that never made any sense to him since they all piled into the same Toyota anyway if they were responding to an anomaly directly from the ARC. But by the time he’d noticed, he’d subsequently realized that they’d all gotten used to it by now so he had made up his mind that it was probably ok to keep letting Abby drive. 

“Connor.” Abby said flatly, making no effort to hide her exhaustion.  
“Yep?” he looked at her, she still had a bit of mud in her hair, near her eyebrow.  
“There better be food in the fridge at home.”   
Happy to please her, he cracked a smile. “I cooked last night!”

Connor watched as she reversed into a tight spot in one go and had her door opened and boots on the ground before he’d even unbuckled. Following her into the flat he had a sinking feeling. His idea of “cooking” probably wouldn’t match up to her standards. 

“Yeah, sorry. When I said ‘cooking’...” he trailed.  
“Connor,” she replied, ripping the tin foil off of a large glass bowl of plain pasta, “Don’t care.” she finished, clutching the bowl to her chest with one arm, clearing papers off the couch with the other.

He hovered a bit, watching her turn on the tv and put her feel up on the coffee table.   
“So...” he paused, “are you gonna share, or should i just--?”

“Of course, “ she cut him off. “You know where the forks are.”


End file.
